


Unguibus et rostro

by creativefiend19



Series: Alter Ego (Another Self) [6]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: (as a flashback), Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Adam, Dream Objects (Raven Cycle), Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-The Raven King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21951256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativefiend19/pseuds/creativefiend19
Summary: Adam has to pull an all-nighter at Boyd’s.So Ronan keeps him company while he works.But Ronan knows what they say about all work and no play.Pynch sexy times, interspersed with some art, angst and a flashback thrown in for good measure.*NO In One Piece spoilers! This is a stand-alone one shot.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: Alter Ego (Another Self) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541212
Comments: 25
Kudos: 227





	Unguibus et rostro

**Author's Note:**

  * For [picapie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/picapie/gifts).



> This was written specially for Picapie (@picapicae on Twitter, which links to her artwork pages) to thank her for her fantastic Pynch fanart. In particular, her excellent and insanely hot NSFW art, which has become my gold standard for visual Pynch porn. Treat yourself and check out her work, if you haven’t already.
> 
> The premise for this fic started off based on one of her drawings: Ronan and Adam getting off in Boyd’s. And it kind of…got away from me after that.
> 
> So, thank you, Picapie, for letting me gift this fic to you, in return for all the many wonderful gifts you have given us. I cherish each one of your beautiful Pynch illustrations. Happy holidays!

The lights were still on at Boyd’s when Ronan pulled up in the BMW. He swore and dashed in quickly, out of the cold spring drizzle.  
  
He didn’t let the squeaky rolling door open fully before he said, more sharply than he meant to, “What the fuck, Adam?”  
  
Adam had already turned around and Ronan tried to map all the expressions that flitted across his face. A part of Ronan marvelled automatically at Adam’s warm beauty, apparent despite the unflattering lights; the blue of his eyes startling even from across the room. But all Ronan could really focus on was the underlying all-too-familiar tiredness on Adam's face.  
  
“ _Shit_. Dinner with Gansey. I completely forgot.” Adam groaned loudly and slumped against the car he was obviously working on.  
  
“It’s 10.30 on a Thursday, man. Why’re you still working anyway?” Ronan snarled, as he kicked the door shut.  
  
“Boyd had a rush job. He offered me triple pay to finish it and I completely...I can't come tonight. I - _fuck_.” Adam ran an agonized hand through his hair, getting grease on it.  
  
After a long moment of looking at him, Ronan just said, “Fine. Forget it,” and turned around to walk back into the night, leaving the door open.  
  
He returned almost immediately, holding the bottom of a wet take-out bag so it wouldn’t tear. He kicked down one of the large blue foam floor mats and took the food out quickly, before the cardboard boxes got too damp.  
  
He looked up to say something - and stopped.  
  
Adam was leaning his body weakly against the front bumper, face a pale mask. Eyes suspiciously bright.  
  
“What?” Ronan said, confused.  
  
“I thought you'd left,” Adam whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.  
  
“Why the fuck would I leave?” Ronan asked, sharp eyebrows dragging his forehead into a frown.  
  
“You said ‘forget it’ and left,” Adam’s voice shook very, very slightly. So slightly that if this wasn’t Ronan, who was hyper-aware of everything Adam, it would be unnoticeable.  
  
“I said ‘forget it’”, Ronan said in a neutral voice, “and went to get the goddamned food. So, yeah, 'forget it’, okay? Now,” he carefully looked away from Adam's guilt-ridden face, “are you waiting for a fucking engraved invitation?”  
  
Adam stayed where he was.  
  
Ronan looked at him out of the corner of his eye, as he opened slightly damp containers of orange chicken, pot stickers, egg rolls, noodles and rice.  
  
Adam was, Ronan knew, torn between beating himself up for forgetting and disbelief at Ronan letting it go. Shrugging it off instead of exacting retribution in some way, or throwing a tantrum, or picking a fight. He was waiting for the catch, for the other shoe to drop.  
  
Adam expected at least penance after messing up, if not punishment - anymore. He certainly didn't equate messing up with being offered food - and forgiveness.  
  
Ronan cursed the Parrish parents, not for the first time, as he said, “Sit your ass down and eat, you shithead.”  
  
Making a big deal of it would be the worst thing he could do. Nothing was worse than what Adam was already doing to himself.  
  
He could stop Robert Parrish from beating Adam up, for one day, but he didn't know how to stop Robert Parrish's son from beating Adam up, every day.  
  
He took the plastic fork he had gotten for Adam out of the bag and threw it far away into a dark corner, while his back was turned.  
  
When Adam finally sat down on the mat next to him, Ronan handed him the wooden chopsticks he'd just been polishing and broke apart his own pair.  
  
“What about Gansey?”  
  
“He can buy his own dinner,” Ronan said unconcerned.  
  
Adam grimaced. He would consider that his fault too.  
  
Ronan threw him his phone silently.  
  
Adam finally paid proper attention to the chopsticks in his hand, after finishing his call with Gansey.  
  
“You didn’t bring me a fork, dickwad?”  
  
“There must be one somewhere,” Ronan said vaguely. He might be a liar, but he never lied. “You need to learn anyway. God forbid they find out at Harvard that there's something The Great Adam Parrish can't do.”  
  
Adam cuffed the back of his head lightly, tried to hold the chopsticks (completely incorrectly) and then proceeded to epically fail at using them.  
  
“Haven’t eaten much Chinese, huh?” Ronan smirked. He already knew the answer but the conversation needed to be guided away from this mess of an evening.  
  
“Nothing but wholesome American fast food and canned food at my parents' place,” Adam said with a wry huff.  
  
Ronan spent an enjoyable few minutes wrapping Adam's sexy fingers around the chopsticks correctly. Adam managed to pick up the egg rolls, but messily shredded open the pot stickers and sent chicken pieces flying everywhere.  
  
“Dumbass,” Ronan snorted, “Here.” He held out a piece of chicken.  
  
“No,” said Adam, determined, “I'm gonna figure this out. How hard can it be?”  
  
Harder than it looked, apparently. He ended up spearing the food viciously on a single chopstick, as they ate to the sound of his bitten-off swears and Ronan's snickers. Adam hated to be bad at anything.  
  
At least the chopsticks had made him forget about beating himself up, just as Ronan had hoped.  
  
Then - “Thank you,” Adam leaned over and kissed his cheek, softly and apologetically.  
  
‘ _Aaaand we're back to our regularly scheduled program of self-flagellation_ ,’ thought Ronan, sighing internally.  
  
“Loser,” he said, putting his entire hand on Adam's face and pushing him back, “Show me what you're working on.”  
  
*  
  
“Jeez, that's an ugly ass piece of crap,” Ronan sneered, as they stood against the beige monstrosity.  
  
“It's amazing, actually. A classic,” Adam replied, “A 1999 Super Duty. 7.3 litre diesel V8 Ford engine. Solidly powerful.”  
  
God, Ronan loved it when Adam spoke Car. He was so hot for him right now.  
  
“It looks like a motorhome mated with a pick up. What the hell's wrong with it anyway?”  
  
“It’s not been maintained, so a lot of things need replacing. The owners are taking it on vacation in the morning.”  
  
“And those assholes gave you just one night to do all the repairs?” Ronan kicked the solid tyres viciously, to show what he thought of such assholes.  
  
Adam shook his head, “No, we've had it for a week, but the parts only got here this evening.”  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“Yeah, but with the triple pay,” Adam said, looking Ronan in the eye, “I thought I could take a weekend off soon and check out Harvard. You wanna come?”  
  
“Sure. I'll drive you,” Ronan shrugged. His stomach twisted in despair at the thought of what Adam checking out Harvard meant for them, but he was careful to keep it off his face. Adam was feeling bad enough already.  
  
Adam continued talking about the car: new brake rotors, oils to be flushed and how the CPS, EBVP and UVCH needed replacing.  
  
At least that's what Ronan thought he said, not that he really cared. He was more interested in the outside of cars than their insides. Or rather, what they did over why they did it.  
  
And he was even more interested in watching Adam being taken over by the side of him that was enthusiastic about finding neat problems with neat solutions. He liked to diagnose issues and then fix them, especially with his hands, just like he used to do with the ley line. Leave things better than he found them. Those clever, beautiful fingers were now touching various parts and getting engine grease on them.  
  
Ronan caught his wrist mid-sentence, brought it to his mouth and pressed a wet, open mouthed kiss on Adam's suddenly speeding pulse point. He smiled as he felt Adam draw in a sharp breath as he ran his teeth gently over the delicate tracery of blue veins and then nosed Adam’s palm. He breathed in the smell of Boyd’s on Adam, better than the bouquet of the finest wine.  
  
Adam closed the distance between them and urgently pressed a hot mouth against Ronan's.  
  
He slid his tongue against Adam's, dark and sensual, as Adam gripped the back of Ronan's neck and pushed his entire body flush against him, impatient and wanting.  
  
Ronan moaned into his mouth as he felt Adam beginning to harden. All his senses were narrowed down to Adam. Adam's mouth, tasting sweet and spicy with a hint of orange, from the Chinese food. Adam's skin, warm and smelling of gasoline and grease. Adam’s hand, rough and calloused against his buzzed skull. Adam's body, lean and long and fit, pressed against his own in the most tantalizing way.  
  
He'd initially thought that the novelty of kissing might get overtaken by the varied ways in which they now got each other off. But nothing had dampened the thrill of kissing Adam. If Ronan Lynch could do nothing else but just kiss Adam Parrish, he would still be happy. He might die from the frustration of it, but he would die happy.  
  
Ronan turned them around and pressed Adam against the truck, bending him backwards with the force of his kisses, until...he hit his forehead against the edge of the open hood.  
  
“Motherfucker,” Ronan bit out.  
  
Adam laughed and kissed the angry red mark on his skin. Ronan pulled him closer and Adam put his chucks directly on Ronan's combat boots, standing on tiptoe. This put him above Ronan and he used the extra height to lick into his mouth dirtily and pointedly. Ronan walked them both backwards towards the counter and pressed Adam against it, grinding against him with a lewd and suggestive roll of his hips. They gasped into each other’s mouths.  
  
He lifted Adam onto the counter and pushed their groins together, hard. He put his forehead against Adam’s shoulder and panted at the relief. Behind Adam was a calendar with a picture of an almost-naked woman, staring vapidly and glassily at the room. Ronan snorted to himself at the irony.  
  
As his fingers stroked along the soft dip in the middle of Adam's collarbones, he ran his teeth and tongue over a tendon in his neck, more harshly than gently, barely restraining himself. Adam whined greedily, stretching his neck to give him more access. Ronan was trying really, really hard not to bite down, especially when he knew he could draw more such perfect sounds from Adam’s perfect lips.  
  
‘No visible hickeys’ was a damn inconvenient rule sometimes.  
  
Adam spent too much time in work and school uniforms, and cared too much about (or needed to depend too much on) people’s perceptions of him, to feel comfortable walking around with a marked neck.  
  
So Ronan savoured Adam's gasps instead, trying to swallow them as soon as they escaped his lips.  
  
“You know, I once had a dream about sex with you here, in Boyd's,” Ronan whispered in his ear, as if sharing a secret.  
  
“An actual dream, y'mean, not a fantasy?” Adam breathed, scratching his nails down Ronan’s head as he mouthed hot and wet along a collarbone. There was a red flush across his freckled cheeks.  
  
“Yeah. You with grease all over your skin and the smell of gasoline everywhere. And me, fucking you on your hands and knees on the garage floor, surrounded by cars. God. It ran like such a B-grade porno. But a hot B-grade porno,” Ronan voice was lost in remembrance.  
  
“Well, what can we do in the next 10 minutes?” Adam tilted his head and one eyebrow, in teasing inquiry.  
  
Ronan looked at him for a moment, “Yeah? Really?”  
  
“Yeah, really, but hurry up,” Adam gritted out, hand fisted in Ronan’s black muscle tee, pulling him closer with urgency as their mouths collided again.  
  
Ronan immediately unzipped the top half of Adam's coveralls and pushed them off his shoulders, needing fewer or preferably no layers between Adam and him. He pushed up Adam's thin white t-shirt up with a warm, splayed palm, as they both sighed in relief at the skin-on-skin contact. His fingers deliberately dragged over a nipple and Adam made a cut-off sound when Ronan took it into his mouth.  
  
He pressed the soft, dusky-peach nub into Adam's chest with the flat of his tongue and felt the movement of Adam writhing under him. Adam braced himself on his hands as Ronan pulled him impossibly closer and hooked one leg over his hip, spreading his thighs even wider. Ronan continued to tweak Adam’s exposed nipple as he took Adam’s growing length out of his underwear. Ronan pushed his jeans down and took out his own hardening cock through the slit in his boxer briefs and rubbed it against Adam’s. They both groaned at the naked, heated friction. Adam threw his head back with a moan as Ronan wrapped his hand around him and stroked him to hardness. He rubbed himself against Adam’s thigh, licking at a cluster of freckles on his neck.

Ronan loved how Adam’s cock fit into his hand, how his hand fit around Adam, how Adam’s hips fit against his. He thumbed over his wet and unbearably soft slit, as Adam panted out his name. He loved his name on Adam’s lips. God. He was so gone for this boy, he thought he might go mad with it.  
  
Adam had spent the night at St. Agnes, like he usually did on weekdays. And Ronan had spent it, alone (with Opal) at the Barns. So, this was the first time he’d gotten to kiss and touch Adam in the last 24 hours, and that was just - unacceptable, as far as Ronan was concerned.  
  
There was a constant presence in Ronan’s chest, that sometimes felt separate from him. A feral being that demanded _Adam, Adam, Adam_ , like drums pounding with every heartbeat. This same insatiable hunger used to drive him to drink and race and fight, especially at night; insisting on _more, more, more_ to fill its gaping maw. It still _wanted_ , this ravenous creature that Ronan was trying to tame, but its snarling was quietened when Adam was in Ronan's arms. Or rather, if it had Adam, it didn’t need anything else.  
  
Right now, as he jacked Adam more firmly and rutted against him more fiercely, the beast purred in approval.

Ronan kissed Adam messily and gloried in the uncontrollable canting of his hips and the mindless nonsense that escaped his mouth: o _h my God, Ronan, yeah, Jesus, fuck, just like that, c’mon_. Getting Adam to turn his brain off was an achievement in itself.

Ronan's body was singing with the sweetness of arousal and Adam and Adam's arousal, all coursing through his blood like holy wine. It built and built and built and Ronan speeded up, timing it so they both exploded together, their combined shouts echoing in the overheated garage and drowning out the sound of the rain falling noisily on the roof.  
  
*  
  
"How much longer?" Ronan asked not for the first time, as he slumped against the wall, expensive headphones discarded in contempt.  
  
"For God's sakes, Ronan! Stop asking. Seriously, you're like a fucking child on a car trip."  
  
"Just tell me how much longer. Then I'll shut up."  
  
“Right, sure you will. At least two more hours, okay?" Adam sighed in resignation.  
  
"Shit. Take a break, you loser. It’s one in the fucking morning."  
  
"If you're bored, go make me another coffee," Adam wiped his greasy fingers in vain on a rag, not turning around from the car.  
  
Ronan suddenly remembered something as he watched Adam’s hands, "Hey, I dreamt you some new stuff. Wait."  
  
He ran out to the car and returned, dripping, with two pots. One was the familiar white plastic _manibus_ container. The other was a vintage-looking tin that said The Barns Axle Grease.  
  
"What's this?" Adam picked up the grease.  
  
"I dreamt you some…safe-on-skin grease? You might have to use what Boyd uses while people are around. But times like this, you could use this."  
  
Adam opened it and sniffed at the black, shiny mass. "Huh. It smells the same. Why’d you dream it?"  
  
"You spend a lot of time with this stuff on your hands, right? Not that I’m complaining, but it must be seeping all kinds of shit into your skin. Figured you should avoid whatever you can."  
  
"Does it work like regular grease?"  
  
"It did in the dream."  
  
"What's the new _manibus_ for?"  
  
“That’s for…” But Ronan had got distracted by Adam rubbing some of the dark grease between his thin, freckled fingers, checking out the consistency with professional interest.  
  
For a minute, Ronan couldn't breathe. Because he suddenly remembered the other part of his dream of fucking Adam at Boyd's.  
  
Adam on his hands and knees, black marks like a tattoo all over his back. Lines of grease, as if joining the dots of his freckles. Lines that were, Ronan was pretty sure, drawn by his own hand.  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed out, suddenly helplessly aroused.  
  
“What?” Adam frowned, recognising his tone.  
  
“It’s just - this was part of my dream of us at Boyd’s. You with this grease all over your back, like a tattoo.”  
  
“Right,” Adam said, distracted, trying out the grease on an auto part.  
  
“You wanna try it out on your skin?”  
  
“No.” Adam’s tone was uninterested, as he turned back to work on his engine, but Ronan had only a single idea in his head now.  
  
“C’mon. Just take a tiny break. Just a few lines. It doesn’t have to be on your back,” Ronan said, taking some grease on his finger and moving next to Adam, smiling wickedly.  
  
“Don’t you dare, Ronan. I don’t have time for this shit,”  
  
Ronan could tell that Adam knew exactly where this was going, and he was hoping that even _Ronan_ would not be that stupid. But he should be smart enough to know that Ronan absolutely _was_.  
  
“Just for a few minutes, okay? I have something that will take it off after,” Ronan wheedled.  
  
“I seriously am not having sex with you at WORK, just because you have a one track mind and no impulse control,” Adam’s voice was steely with warning.  
  
“No, not the sex part. But you know how you’re obsessed with my tattoo? Wouldn’t you like one?”  
  
"No! Stop it, Ronan! I’m NOT kidding,” Adam pushed Ronan's hand away angrily, but not before he had swiped a smear of black grease down Adam’s cheek.  
  
“You _fucker_. Shit!” Adam rubbed his face with the back of his hand and looked down at the dark mess.  
  
"What? You’re already greasy and you're gonna be more messed up by the end of tonight anyway. And I’ll take it all off, I promise. Trust me." Another thick line across his forehead, just above his eyebrows.  
  
Adam jumped out of range. "Those would've been light smudges, you _shithead_. These are fucking caked-on smears. You JERK! Do you know how hard it is to get axle grease out of skin and clothes?"  
  
Ronan smiled sharply, unapologetic, a wild glint in his eyes. “Better take off your clothes then,” he said meaningfully, as he darted forward and dragged a finger down Adam’s forearm.  
  
He jumped back, smirking, and then looked up at Adam's face...  
  
...and realised that he'd gone too far.

He'd pushed Adam too much. He’d miscalculated. _Shit._  
  
“RONAN! I don’t have time to fuck around just ‘cos you’re bored. Some of us actually have to work, y’know, to pay for rent and school and gas. Not things that _you_ would know anything about,” Adam spat out the last sentence viciously, red in the face as he turned back and bent over the open hood of the car.  
  
Ronan felt a spike of hurt that twisted, ugly and poisonous, in his gut. It stung. Being so easily dismissed by Adam, being yelled at when he was only joking about. Being seen as jobless, useless, worthless. Adam turning his back on him.

He didn't care what most people thought of him, but he cared more about Adam's opinion than anyone else's.  
  
It brought out every single one of his panic-inducing insecurities about the future. About Adam realising his boyfriend was nothing but a high-school dropout loser, a rich brat who didn’t need to work. Adam turning his back on Ronan, after he goes to Harvard and meets someone, anyone, more worthy. Bitterness at Adam, and all their friends, changing, growing up, becoming adults in the real world, while Ronan had to stay back in his childhood home and remain stagnant.

All of it welled up in Ronan like an acid wave and he found himself defenceless against its ferocity.  
  
So, before he knew what he was saying, he had said it.  
  
“Hey, you bailed on dinner. The least you can do is spend a few minutes with me.”  
  
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he’d fucked up. Irrevocably.

Adam’s shoulders tensed, stiffening with surprised hurt.  
  
Here was the other shoe that Adam had been waiting for, the whole evening. And Ronan had finally let it drop. Like the selfish bastard he was.  
  
_Ronan, you complete shithead.  
_  
“I’m sorry, 'kay? I…apologised to Gansey - and I'll pay you back for the food.”  
  
_Aargh_ , Ronan thought. _Fuckfuckfuck.  
_  
“C’mon Parrish. I didn’t mean it that way.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter. It’s true anyway. I did bail on you guys.”  
  
Fucking _hell_. Ronan couldn’t believe that he'd hit Adam exactly where he was most vulnerable, by acting like a spoilt, thoughtless child. After hating Adam's parents for hurting him, Ronan had done the exact same thing.  
  
“Hey, hey, Adam. Wait.” He caught hold of Adam’s wrist gently with his already greasy hand and pulled him around, “I didn’t mean it that way, okay? Gansey and I understand. You’re getting triple pay.”  
  
“Oh my God, just - fuck OFF, RONAN. Jesus, just leave me the FUCK ALONE! Seriously. Just - go. Get out,” Adam had started out shouting, yanking his hand out of Ronan's grasp. But then his voice had tapered off into resigned defeat - which was much, much worse than the yelling.  
  
Jesus _fuck_. Ronan hadn’t meant to bring the money up. He couldn’t open his shitting mouth tonight without messing up.  
  
Ronan grabbed Adam’s hand again and said, “Okay, okay, I’ll leave, okay? Promise. Just - let me get the grease off you.”  
  
“No. It’s fine. Like you said, I’m a mess anyway. I’m going to be more of a mess before I’m done.”  
  
Adam's beautiful, sensitive mouth had turned down, in a grimace of self-loathing and frustration. Hating that he seemed to be always dirty and patched up, that he had to choose money over a dinner with his friends, over sleep, over spending time with Ronan.  
  
And Ronan was an insensitive fucking _idiot_ , to remind Adam of all this.  
  
“It’s a - lot of grease, okay?” Ronan held up the new jar of _manibus_ cream, “This will take it all off quickly.”  
  
Adam leaned back against the front bumper and took a deep breath, though his face was still red and his eyes were full of hurt. But Ronan knew he’d softened just looking at the cream. Was remembering Ronan dreaming it for him the first time. And how Ronan had left it in his car, after visiting him here at Boyd's, on a rainy night just like this. He hoped Adam didn't remember that Ronan had pissed him off that night as well.  
  
“Just leave it here. I’ll use it later,” he sighed.  
  
“You don’t have a proper mirror, Parrish. You won’t be able to get all of it. Just let me - okay? Then I’ll leave. I promise.”  
  
Adam held his arm out, but Ronan patted the counter with the fresh rags still on it from before, when they had cleaned up after they had gotten off. He was wondering if Adam remembered too.  
  
“Get on here. It’ll be easier.”  
  
Adam sighed in a hugely put-upon way and jumped up on the counter.  
  
Ronan dabbed the rag into just a little of the _manibus_ lotion and dragged it down over the thick line of grease on Adam’s forearm. They both watched, transfixed. Because it was like a magic trick. Like something on a television infomercial. The black disappeared completely as the rag wiped it away. Like it had never been.  
  
“Wow,’ said Adam with a low whistle, completely distracted, “It didn’t do _that_ before.”  
  
He ran a finger down his completely clean skin. It looked soft and shiny.  
  
“No, this is a new batch. I’ve dreamt it to take away any grease or motor oil, however long it’s been on you. Even under your fingernails.”  
  
“I thought you liked it when my hands were all greasy,” Adam grinned at him, suddenly in a much better mood, happy at getting something that made cleaning up so easy.   
  
And just like that, things had changed.  
  
And Ronan knew exactly why. It was partly because of the _manibus_ , but it was also because they were touching.  
  
It might sound crazy, but Ronan knew it like he knew truth.  
  
Adam and he might drive each other insane and push all of each other’s buttons - always saying the wrong thing or not saying the right thing. But when they touched, everything else flew out the window. It was just this: fingertips on freckled skin. It was Ronan’s warm palm cupped around Adam's elbow. The language their bodies spoke was simple, eloquent and undeniable, cutting through all unnecessary bullshit.  
  
Maybe solving things this way was not perfect. Maybe it was deflection or suppression or procrastination or whatever the hell the right word was. But Ronan couldn’t really bring himself to care, when it meant he got to defuse a situation by touching Adam Parrish. It was a double win.  
  
“You'd be a lot greasier all over, if I had my way,” Ronan muttered darkly. He didn’t even know what he was saying anymore, because his body had started its distracting chant of _Adam Adam Adam_.  
  
“I’ll be hard to hold on to,” Adam was finally in the playful mood Ronan had wanted him to be in, only it had taken a fight to get here, ironically.  
  
“Not if you’re sliding under me and I’m sliding into you,” Ronan’s voice turned low and filthy, without him meaning it to. He hadn't been planning to make any innuendos, or any moves, when Adam was busy working. And being mad at him.  
  
But his mouth was still separated from his brain, apparently.  
  
And just like that, the air around them was charged - like before a thunderstorm, buzzing with erotic energy. With memories of carnal knowledge. Their breath caught at the same time as they looked at each other, pupils blown wide. Now all that Ronan’s brain could circle around was the idea of _sliding into Adam_. Holy fucking shit, he really did have a one track mind.  
  
Adam didn’t say or do anything. But Ronan could see, in his eyes flicking down to Ronan's mouth as he licked his own lips unconsciously, that he was torn between want and knowing that this would just be - an _inconvenient_ time.  
  
In the complicated web of Adam’s needs, Ronan knew he was right up there with time and money and energy. But he also knew he was sometimes the choice that would come last with Adam. Just for survival. Just because there was only one Adam Parrish and there were only 24 hours in a day. And Ronan understood that, was usually fine with that. Ronan wanted Adam to have everything he wanted, even if that meant Ronan got left behind sometimes.  
  
As long as Adam came back for him.  
  
Some days he was better at accepting this than others.  
  
Their suddenly harsh breathing was the only sound in the echoing garage. Ronan could smell Adam’s precum wafting into the air. It was the headiest perfume and his mouth watered with a Pavlovian response.  
  
Ronan looked away as he cleaned up Adam’s face, trying to break some of the tension and not look down at the siren call of Adam’s tented crotch. He obviously didn't succeed, because Adam closed his eyes as if long suffering.  
  
“Fuck, Ronan, don't do this to me.”  
  
“No, no. I'm not. I said I'd go. Don't worry.”  
  
“And hey,” he looked at Adam's neck as he was wiping it, needing to set things right before he left, “I know that you have to do this right now. It’s more important than dinner plans, than me. You're working all night and I stressed you out even more instead of helping, ‘cos I’m a selfish asshole. I’m sorry, okay?”  
  
Pale blue eyes met deep blue ones for a second, long enough to convey the unspoken part of the apology properly – _I love you_.  
  
He finished cleaning Adam up and left to make him some coffee, to put some physical distance between them. He needed his painfully hard erection to cool off, and it was getting too difficult to be near Adam and not kiss him, or lap up his precum, or _slide his tongue into him_ , or _something_ , anything. _Jesus_.  
  
After he handed Adam a steaming cup, he kissed him lightly and said, “I made a fresh pot. Eat the rest of the food if you’re hungry. And call me and I'll come pick you up, okay?”  
  
As he was going up to the door he heard Adam say his name.  
  
His voice sounded a little strange, Ronan was thinking, even as he turned his head and said, “Yeah?”  
  
Adam, standing in the middle of the large blue floor mat surrounded by the jars of _manibus_ and grease, said again:  
  
_Ronan._  
  
Ronan turned fully around.  
  
Because he knew.  
  
He intimately knew all the endless ways in which Adam said his name.  
  
With anger, with exasperation, with tenderness, with passion, with desperation, with resignation, with warning, with irritation.  
  
This time Adam was saying his name with - meaning.  
  
And Ronan knew what that meant. His heart started pounding in his chest, his blood started pounding in his ears and his pulse pounded harder between his legs.  
  
Because Adam meant - but he couldn't mean... Because it wasn't practical. And Adam Parrish was nothing if not practical.  
  
“C'mere.”  
  
“Adam?”  
  
“Just - c'mere. C’mon.”  
_  
“Adam.”_  
  
He was in front of Adam now.  
  
Adam lifted calloused hands to cup his face and looked him in the eye, “Nothing is more important than you, okay? You brought me dinner and you stayed with me and you made me coffee. And you made me better _manibus_ , and fucking non-toxic axle grease, of all the random things. You’re thinking about me all the time. And yeah, you drive me crazy sometimes, you shithead, but I love you. I'm sorry too, about what I said. I think you're amazing and tonight would've just fucking sucked if you weren't here.”  
  
Adam kissed him, soft and loving, and Ronan held his ribs under his t-shirt and kissed him back in relief. His chest light and his gut calm once more, at being forgiven by Adam, at them being okay again.  
  
Adam held out the jar of _manibus_. And the tin of black grease.  
  
His voice was strong and clear, even if he whispered, “I want you to tattoo me. Then take it off.”  
  
“Adam, shit - you're working, you don’t have time, you won't get much sleep,” Ronan found himself babbling, though his heart was pounding so hard he could hardly hear himself. He was imagining Adam marked all over in black lines, drawn by Ronan’s hand. A tattoo of his desire for Adam, however temporary.  
  
"I'm not going to sleep anyway. And you're right, I can take a break."  
  
Adam took off all his clothes, looking at Ronan the whole time. He opened the pot of grease and took some of it onto his fingers  
  
He held out his right hand to Ronan and smeared some of the grease from his fingers onto Ronan's left hand. He looked at Ronan and deliberately moved his hand from his cheek, down his jaw and throat to his chest, dragging over a nipple. Leaving three parallel black lines over his tanned skin, tantalizing and daring Ronan to mark him, like he knew Ronan wanted. Ronan watched a trail of goose bumps erupt on his skin when the cold grease touched him.  
  
Ronan had already lost the fight. He pressed the point of his left index finger between Adam's eyebrows, against the furrow that usually formed there, watching it slide down the bridge of Adam's sharp nose until the tip, dragging a black line with it. He then moved his thumb across Adam's elegant cheekbone, highlighting the arc with grease.  
  
He dipped his fingers into the pot and dragged a line along Adam's sharply delicate collarbones, down the middle of Adam's chest, over the line of hair disappearing into his groin. He felt Adam gasp, his stomach muscles tightening and Ronan traced the ridges on his lean abs, outlining them in black. Ronan then splayed his greased hand on the small of Adam's back and pulled him in for a literally filthy kiss. He could smell Adam, as always, but the aroma of grease was heightened. Turning him on even more, if that was possible.  
  
When Ronan pulled away, he saw black smeared across Adam's nose, just like, he was pretty sure, across his own face. He grinned.  
  
He turned Adam around and pulled him against his chest, as he licked behind his ear.  
  
"Oh shit," Adam gasped, pressing himself back, as Ronan bucked his hard length along Adam's ass.  
  
He kissed and bit across Adam's shoulder blades and along his spine. His grease-blackened fingers followed his mouth, tracing out a rough approximation of his own tattoo, all the way to the curve of Adam’s ass. Ronan slid his tongue between his cheeks for a quick taste, making Adam moan loudly, before moving down his legs and caressing his calves, drawing lines of black down the insides of Adam's thighs. Adam was trembling on his feet, and they were both panting hard, by the time he was done.  
  
He stood up and looked at Adam’s body, naked but clothed in black swirling lines of art that looked like an echo of Ronan’s own back. Ronan had a sudden sense of displacement, similar to how he felt after his dreaming. Like he was looking at a version of himself; Adam was him, had become him. Or he had burrowed under Adam’s skin and now lived there; had wrapped himself around Adam, like he wanted to sometimes. To be carried around by Adam, on his body. Carried to Harvard. Not left behind.

He could see Adam’s shoulders heave with his harsh breaths and Ronan came back to the present moment. Adam needed him to be here now, not spiralling off in his head. He joined two of his favourite freckles on Adam’s neck with a line, like he had always wanted to. He saw his hand leave a print on Adam’s shoulder, as he turned him around to face him. Ronan completed the tattoo by dragging the barbs to show around Adam’s neck, just like they did with Ronan’s. _Unguibus et rostro_.

Adam’s entire body was an erotic picture, painted with pitch, outlined in ink. His eyes were hooded, looking at Ronan with lust-blown pupils, as he panted through his open mouth. His cock looked hard and flushed. Ronan could already feel its phantom weight and salty deliciousness on his tongue. Adam's nipples looked painfully and mouth-wateringly erect and Ronan took the one clear of grease into his mouth, even as he finally wrapped his clean hand around Adam's fully-hardened length. He felt the low, long neediness of Adam's groan and began to crouch, ready to taste the low-hanging fruit of Adam's dick.  
  
"Ronan," Adam gasped out, as Ronan's thumb slid over his wet slit, "Shit, no, wait..."  
  
Ronan stopped immediately, and stepped away. “Okay.”  
  
"No, no, not that. I just - I need you to fuck me," Adam's voice was desperate, as he held out his hand to Ronan.  
  
"Oh shit, Adam," Ronan slid onto his knees in supplication, taking Adam’s hand and kissing his fingers, "Christ, are you sure?"  
  
"Yes, yes, Ronan. _Please_ ," Adam's voice broke on the please and he shuddered with want, and Ronan was done. He could never deny Adam anyway, and when he begged to be fucked like this, Ronan lost all ability to think clearly. Ronan rose and gripped Adam’s hair with his clean hand, held his jaw with his other and kissed him with urgent promise.

He stripped quickly, as Adam lay down on the mat on his stomach, his glorious back art on display. Ronan was beginning to understand Adam’s obsession with his own tattoo. He cupped one of Adam’s compact ass cheeks, loving the handprint he left behind on it.  
  
"Christ, Adam, you look... Can I - take a photo?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Can I take a few photos?"  
  
"Fuck. Okay, but hurry up!" Adam panted.  
  
Ronan’s hand shook slightly as he snapped a picture of Adam's naked back. They were never going to do anything like this again, and this was not just to show Adam how amazing he looked but to act as jerking off fodder for at least four years’ worth of Harvard. Not that Ronan was going to need any help remembering all of this.  
  
“Get on your elbows and knees.”  
  
“ _Jesus Christ_ , Ronan! After this snap, you’re going to prep me, and for once in your goddamn life you’re going to do it quickly, so you can fuck me already,” Adam ranted, as he got on his elbows and knees.  
  
Snarky and horny and bossy and needy and hot, all at the same time. Adam Parrish, ladies and gentlemen, Ronan thought wryly, as he felt a rush of love and fondness that threatened to unravel him. He dropped a quick kiss on Adam's ass as he took the lid off the _manibus_ jar with his clean hand.  
  
Ronan slid a finger coated with cream into him, as Adam groaned needily. He really should dream something just for this, the part of Ronan that was always creating thought. Edible, maybe, and even slicker. Warming. Stretching? Something so they could prep faster, for times like this, Ronan thought wildly.  
  
He was so hard he could barely see; he really needed to calm down or this was going to be a fiasco. He repeatedly did his smoker’s breath, and when Adam was finally good and ready, Ronan slathered his cock with the blessedly cool _manibus_ and slid carefully into him. They both swore with relief when he bottomed out. He stroked Adam’s hips soothingly and waited, like he always did, for Adam to adjust to his size and for him to get control over himself.  
  
This position always reminded Ronan of the first time he had entered Adam. The first time he’d fucked Adam.  
  
Which hadn't exactly gone as he had always planned or imagined or hoped.  
  
Actually, it had been a complete disaster.  
  
  


It had started to go wrong right away, when they hadn't been able to find a position that worked for them.  
  
The last thing Ronan had anticipated was that the mechanics of it would be a hurdle, considering everything had gone perfectly when Adam had fucked him for the first time. And the few times after that.  
  
They had first tried it with Adam on his back, then on his side and on his stomach, but it all seemed impossible. Ronan was too big and they were both too new at this and everything seemed to be hurting Adam or literally just not - _going_ anywhere.  
  
Ronan was ready to give up; the last thing he wanted to ever do was to cause Adam any pain or discomfort. Plus, they were both stressed and frustrated and this was taking away from the - _romance_ \- of it all. But Adam was, well, adamant. There was nothing Adam Parrish ever gave up on, and he was damned if he was going to start with this.  
  
Finally, they had tried it like this - with Adam on his hands and knees. And by the time Ronan entered him fully, it was Adam on his elbows and knees.  
  
And that's when the next thing went wrong.  
  
Because, as soon as he was fully inside Adam, Ronan...came.  
  
He came immediately, before he'd even begun to move, before he'd even thought about moving.  
  
And it wasn't because of any of the expected or anticipated reasons that he had sometimes imagined might make him lose control. Because Ronan had imagined this moment many, many, countless number of times.  
  
It wasn't the sensations.  
  
It wasn’t feeling Adam's shockingly intimate heat, or his incredible tightness, or his mindblowing slickness.  
  
It wasn't the view or the position.  
  
It wasn't seeing himself disappear inside Adam, seeing Adam's body stretch obscenely around him, trying to accommodate his girth.  
  
It wasn't feeling Adam shakily exhale as Ronan finally, finally filled him completely.  
  
It was just this…  
  
Ronan thinking: I'm inside Adam.  
  
Jesus, Mary and fucking Joseph.  
  
_I am inside Adam Parrish._  
  
And that was all it took. It was just that thought that did it.  
  
It was too overwhelming, too much for his entire being to contain.  
  
Something inside him broke, and he knew he would be put back together differently after this. He had already been fundamentally altered by sex with Adam, had been redefined by him. But now he was being rebuilt around Adam. It was the opposite of being unmade. And it shorted out his brain, made his self-control blow a fuse.  
  
And so he had come, as soon as the impossibility, the incredibleness, the unimaginability of the situation had hit him. The moment he had comprehended that this was happening, that he was finally living this experience, he came. He came helplessly, with Adam's name on his lips, teetering on the edge of a desperate sob.  
  
And so, it was over before it had even truly begun.  
  
Thankfully, it was Adam. It was them. And so they had laughed, and Adam had teased him a little. And kissed him a lot. And held him, as he shuddered with tears and laughter and aftershocks. Shaking his head at the incredible, ridiculous magic of his life that had brought him to this moment.  
  
Not the magic of being a dreamer or of Cabeswater or of Glendower. But the much greater magic of wanting this beautiful boy, loving him hopelessly, for so long, and finally to have somehow gotten him. To be with him. To be loved by him. To get to share his body. The unending miracle of it.  
  
Ronan had never believed more in the existence of a God than right that minute.  
  
They tried again, very soon.  
  
And this time, it was perfect, blissful, transcendent.  
  
Adam was already ready, already stretched and already full of Ronan's wetness inside him. Ronan already knew how to push past the resistance, knew that it was possible to do it without hurting Adam, however impossible it seemed initially.  
  
This time they fit together, moved together, easily, naturally, effortlessly. Like Ronan had always known they would.  
  
So the second time became their proper first time.  
  
And it was branded into Ronan's soul, seared into his mind forevermore. Adam's cries, his swearing, his panting out Ronan's name again and again, his uncontrollable shouts of pleasure, feeling Adam's racing pulse beating around his own, Adam clenching in spasms as Ronan stroked him to completion, coming deep inside Adam for a second time - were memories that Ronan would never, ever forget as long as he lived.  
  
Adam sometimes joked that he'd shown Ronan a better (first) time than Ronan had shown him. And Ronan would snarl and swear ( _Fuck you, Parrish. My point exactly, Lynch. You didn’t_ ), or grin, depending on his mood, and say, ‘Practice makes fucking perfect’. Either way, he would make sure Adam's smart-ass mouth was occupied for a while after.  
  
They (he, actually) had decided that he did need to practice more. So they had practised. What a beautiful thing it was, learning to love this incredible boy, again and again. Ronan had worked hard on many things in his life: Latin, boxing, driving, dreaming, tennis, pissing Declan off. But he had never practised anything so already perfect as having sex with Adam.  
  
So, Ronan had learnt how to love Adam better, how to fuck him senseless, how to bear with the blessed unbearableness of it all. Had applied himself to it with all the single-minded devotion he was capable of, especially when it came to Adam. Had learnt that he should take the edge off first, if possible. Had learnt to spend more time opening Adam up. Had learnt to switch his mind off, until he couldn't take it anymore. Had learnt to decipher Adam's every gasp and moan and quiver. Had learnt how to take them both to the edge and then pull back, again and again, so that they finally exploded into ecstasy.  
  
To make it last, to make it long, and to make it loving.  
  
Because Adam deserved all that and more. Adam deserved to be worshipped. And Ronan learned how to worship Adam like he deserved.  
  
  


So now, buried completely inside Adam, seeing him folded almost in half, Ronan fleetingly allowed himself to think of how completely divine Adam looked, like this. He smoothed his palm over the expanse of Adam's freckled back, constellations smearing with galaxies of grease, feeling him tremble slightly as he waited for Ronan to move. And allowed himself to marvel again, for just another moment, at Adam's beauty under him.  
  
"God, you're so perfect, Adam, you’re so fucking hot," he said reverently, and felt Adam tighten around him with a shuddering breath at the praise, forehead pressed against the mat.  
  
So receptive.  
  
So flexible.  
  
So fuckable.  
  
He leaned forward, kissed Adam's spine on a clean spot in the middle of his shoulder blades, whispered "I love you" into his good ear and then forced himself to stop thinking.  
  
And just began moving.  
  
And let his body take over.  
  
And make it good for Adam.  
  
Like he knew he could.  
  
They were both too keyed up, and for Ronan, fucking a greased-up Adam on the floor of Boyd’s surrounded by cars, just like in his dream, almost undid all the hours of careful control he had cultivated. He initially fucked Adam hard and fast, like they both needed, hearing Adam’s cries pitch higher and higher - until Ronan had to slow down abruptly so he and Adam wouldn’t come too soon. He forced himself to slide in and out with a rhythmic roll of his hips, just rocking into Adam's tight heat for a while. Adam was panting in time with his gentle thrusts, but Ronan knew he was off the edge as well, for now.  
  
When Ronan's heartbeat had slowed a bit, and he didn’t feel like he was going to explode with the next uncontrolled breath, he speeded up again. He tried to hold Adam's slippery body steady, but it was surprisingly difficult, with both his own hands greasy as well. So he pulled Adam's lewdly hand-printed ass almost straight up in the air, and planted a foot to give himself some leverage, as he rammed into Adam again and again.  
  
Adam was lost to the lust-induced bliss of it now - cheek pressed against the mat, mouth fallen open, whimpering helplessly and continuously, as Ronan hit his prostate over and over with his powerful thrusts. Neither of them was going to last much longer, Ronan thought, regretfully. He would have liked to spend hours sliding into Adam like this, slow and fast and then slow again, until they both died from it. But he was only human.  
  
He dialled down the rhythm and spread Adam's legs, even as Adam whined in protest at the reduced pace. But then Ronan wrapped his clean hand around Adam's copiously leaking cock and only had to stroke him a few times before Adam came - with long and loud cries that were almost sobs, fluttering tightly around Ronan. Ronan continued to fuck him through his orgasm, until the point where he knew that Adam would tip into over-sensitivity. He then pulled out slowly, supporting Adam as he collapsed and then jerked himself off until he came on the mat.  
  
He exhaled in relief as he collapsed next to Adam, and enjoyed the hazy feeling of every part of him being completely content. The amorphous hungry beast in him was finally soothed and calmed, for a while at least. Every one of his emotions that wasn’t love was peace.  
  
Ronan forced himself to get up sooner than he wanted to, because the cooling cum below Adam would quickly become unbearable. He wiped Adam’s back gently with the clean rags and then went over all of Adam's marked skin with the _manibus_ , until he was cleaner than he was before.  
  
As he wiped the last of the grease from his own face, he realised that bright blue eyes were looking at him.  
  
“Hey,” he said softly, “you okay?”  
  
“I may never walk again,” Adam said, stretching voluptuously and wincing slightly, “but other than that, I’m great.”  
  
“Shit,” Ronan was immediately contrite.  
  
“Hey. We’ve spoken about this. If I didn’t say stop, you don’t feel bad when I tell you the truth, okay?”  
  
Ronan was silent. He was thinking about how Adam had work to do, and then a whole school day to get through.  
  
“Ronan,” Adam said sharply, frowning, though he put his palm against Ronan's cheek gently, “It was amazing. I asked you for this. I needed it just like how you gave it to me. So don’t ruin it now, y’hear? Or we’re gonna fight again. And I don’t wanna fight right now.”  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“I want you to kiss me.”  
  
And so Ronan lay back down next to him and they kissed. Slow and fast and then slow again, until their lips were sore with stubble burn.  
  
Ronan cleaned up the mats and made Adam a fresh pot of coffee. As their stomachs growled in unison, they realized with relief that they could finish the rest of the Chinese food.  
  
_How the fuck is this my life_ , Ronan thought in wonder, as he watched Adam Parrish, sprawled butt-naked on the blue floor mats of Boyd’s garage, pick up his chopsticks clumsily and grimace at them.  
  
This time, Adam let Ronan feed him, thankfully.  
  
  
*  
  
  
Ronan was propped up against the headboard, with Adam's back cradled against his chest. Adam had just put down his Latin notes, which Ronan had been helping him with, because they couldn't focus anymore.  
  
The matching dark circles under their eyes made them tired twins, neither having slept the previous night after Boyd's. Ronan was more used to the lack of sleep than Adam was, but _he_ hadn't spent the whole day at school and then at work.  
  
"What made you change your mind yesterday? About calling me back. About the grease tattoo," Ronan whispered into Adam's ear, as he stroked his naked chest soothingly under the comforter.  
  
"I realised that five years from now, I won't remember the triple pay or the rush job. But I'll remember that night, with you. I wanted to make a memory."  
  
Ronan kissed behind his ear. "You remember my dream of fucking you in Boyd's?"  
  
"Yeah?" Adam turned his head and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"In that dream your skin was full of black lines like a tattoo, just like it ended up being, right? But I wasn't even thinking about any of that when I dreamt you the new grease and _manibus_ , and brought them to Boyd’s. But they were exactly what was needed to make all of that happen."  
  
"What're you saying?"  
  
"What if it wasn't just a - fantasy-dream but, like, a premonition?"  
  
"Hmmm."  
  
"Don't start with that hmmm shit again, you fucker."  
  
"Okay, I'll tell you what I really think."  
  
"Yes, please enlighten me, O genius."  
  
Adam ignored the sarcasm as usual and said, "I think you're a dreamer and we know there's magic, so why can't you have premonitions too?"  
  
"But - ?"  
  
"But, you were, actually you are, just a very horny teenager (Ronan thought about pinching him, but he was honest enough to just shrug in agreement), who gets turned on by cars, and the smell of gasoline and the sight of grease on me. So..."  
  
"So - you don't think it was a premonition. Just my…subconscious?"  
  
"I think if you are gonna have premonitions, there are more useful ones to have than different scenarios of us fucking, to be honest."  
  
"Hmmm."  
  
"Now who's saying hmmm, you hypocritical asshole?"  
  
"Fuck off, Parrish. Hey, you want to see the photos?"  
  
"Oh shit, yeah."  
  
Ronan leaned over and opened his phone.  
  
"Holy fuck, Ronan."  
  
"Yeah, cool angle, huh? You look really fucking good, literally. And with all those black markings, like some Viking with war paint."  
  
"Yeah, somehow I don't think Viking men got ready for war by sticking their asses up in the air."  
  
"Hey, you don't know that. Don't kink-shame Viking warriors, you close-minded bastard ."  
  
"Jesus. This really does look like a B-grade porno shoot. I don't know if I'm turned on or disgusted. Awww, man, did you have to take a close up of this?"  
  
"Are you kidding? You have the sweetest ass on the planet. I'm thinking of framing this."  
  
Adam barked out his surprised laugh.  
  
"You do. Your ass cheeks fit so perfectly into my hands."  
  
"Yes, I can see the black handprint really clearly. Were you trying to make a point?"  
  
"What? That your ass is mine?" Ronan huffed out an amused snort, "If anything, it's actually mine that _you’re_ obsessed with."  
  
"You bet your round and perfect ass I am," Adam leaned back against Ronan and sighed, "I wish there were photos of that, instead of my skinny one."  
  
"Hey, nobody trash talks your ass in front of me. Not even you, okay?" Ronan kissed Adam's good ear, "And next time, you can take photos of me. Or us. Or a video. We can set up a tripod."  
  
"Fucking hell, is this one of your weird-ass kinky fantasies again?" Adam rolled his eyes, scoffing.  
  
"Hey, do you see these photos? It is literally not possible for me to look at you and not have these thoughts, okay? I had these dreams when you were walking around me fully clothed, even before we got together."  
  
"All I know is, you're an oversexed idiot with too much imagination and bad taste in porn."  
  
"You knew most of that getting into this. So quit your whining - and go the fuck to sleep. You can't not sleep two nights in a row."  
  
"D'you really think I can sleep after seein' all that? I'm gonna explode if we don't do somethin'," Adam's voice was slurring slightly.  
  
"Alright, here," Ronan took Adam's fully erect cock into his hand (ignoring his own painful hardness) and started stroking it slowly. Adam tilted his face up, seeking, and Ronan kissed his warm mouth languidly but thoroughly.  
  
Adam hummed a contented sound and sighed with relief against Ronan's lips, as he swirled the slick precum around Adam's slit. He laid his head back tiredly on Ronan's shoulder, and nuzzled a small smile against his neck.  
  
Despite needing sleep more than maybe anyone else on the planet, Adam's hunger, or rather thirst, for Ronan, and his need to get everything he wanted _now, now, now_ , meant that he fought sleep sometimes. So he could spend more time loving Ronan, being loved by Ronan. But Ronan didn't want sex, or himself, to be one more thing that kept Adam from rest.  
  
So he had figured out how to trick Adam into sleep, when he got like this. It was by stroking him just hard and fast enough that he felt like he was getting off, but slow and gentle enough that the rhythm was hypnotic and soporific. It was like balancing on the knife edge between dreams and reality.  
  
Something Ronan was very good at.  
  
And soon...Adam would fall asleep.  
  
And...sometimes...despite his best efforts...Ronan would too...  
  
  
  
*  


A few days later, Adam was almost done at Boyd’s and thinking about his History paper due tomorrow. It was going to be another late night, though his bed at St. Agnes had never seemed so enticing.  
  
He was outlining his essay in his head while sweeping up around a Honda Civic, when he found a white plastic fork on the floor. It was tucked into a paper sleeve that said “Chung Wah Chinese Kitchen”.  
  
“Ronan,” Adam muttered.  
  
This time, he said his name with fondness, as he shook his head with a slight smile.

He couldn’t believe Ronan had made him struggle with those chopsticks. That shithead. But it _had_ distracted him.

It was amazing how Ronan knew exactly how Adam would react.

  
  
Next, of course, Adam needed to collect and stack up the floor mats.

He looked down at the blue foam one that he was pretty sure they had used, because it was much cleaner than the rest, and smelled faintly of mist and moss.

A smell Adam had associated with Cabeswater and the _manibus_ until recently, but which now reminded him of that night. Which had been proving - inconvenient - every time he now applied the _manibus_ on his hands.

That night. Shit. It had been mind-blowing.

He didn’t think he had ever come that hard before.

That Ronan had ever fucked him quite like that before.

And those _pictures._

Those lines of black grease against his skin.

Adam already had a visceral response to Ronan’s tattoo, but seeing one that Ronan had drawn _on_ _him_ had felt - incredibly intimate. Like Ronan had...marked him; defined him with his desire. Given something of himself over to Adam, in his keeping. Had chosen him all over again.

“You look flushed, son,” Boyd looked at him worriedly, as he stacked up the mats, wrestling furiously with imminent arousal the whole time, “And you’re sweatin’. You comin’ down with somethin’?”

“I’m fine, thanks Boyd,” Adam said, trying to not sound breathless.

Dammit. First the Latin classroom and now Boyd’s. He couldn’t go anywhere without it reminding him of Ronan. Of sex with Ronan.

They needed to stop having sex all over the place. Adam’s room and Ronan’s house (and the BMW) should be enough for anyone.

Adam felt the familiar pull of want, and need. And Ronan.

But he’d spent his entire life denying himself what he wanted and needed, just so he could reach his goals. He had priorities, commitments.

But - oh my God, sex with Ronan...

Ronan's mouth, his ass, his tattoo, his cock, and all the things he could do with them... Seriously, Ronan was impossible to resist. And Adam was only human. 

But he couldn’t go to Ronan _now_. It was late and he had History homework to do. He was already not going to sleep much.

Damn you, Ronan.

He was going away to Harvard. Soon Ronan would be hours away. He wouldn’t be able to go running to Ronan every time he felt horny. He should get used to it from right now. Train himself.

_Which is exactly why you should go while you still can._

“You go straight home now, y’hear, Adam?”

“Yeah, Boyd. I’m goin' home. 'Cos I just remembered that I gotta - do somethin’.”

“Or someone,” Adam gritted out, as he drove towards the Barns, as quickly as his dinky Hondayota would take him.

He'd lost the fight with himself when he'd found the plastic fork, actually.

_Damn you, Ronan._

Adam pressed the accelerator all the way to the floor, and felt the rhythm of the wheels echoing the name beating through his pounding pulse.

Ronan. Ronan. Ronan.

_Ronan._

He would still have time to do his History homework after - well, after.

*

**Author's Note:**

> This is a stand-alone fic, if anyone’s wondering, because:
> 
> 1) I wanted to gift a complete work to Picapie.
> 
> 2) It doesn't really fit into the In One Piece storyline, though it’s set sometime after the Borden House Caper. And something from here will be referenced in IOP. 
> 
> 3) I’ve given up pretending that I only write ‘missing’ Pynch sex scenes.
> 
> So, I’ve expanded the Alter Ego series to include all my fics, including the very first one about Adam figuring out what his feelings for Ronan mean for his sexuality. Because there are sexy times in it, if you squint.
> 
> I love hearing from readers! A word, a line, Anon, non-English - any type of comment or [Tumblr](https://creativefiend19.tumblr.com/) Ask is welcome. So is kudos!


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